


Sins and Virtues: Shades of Gray

by JailynnW



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Depression, Envy and Kindness, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, I really hope you like it, J/B week 2020, Jaime Lannister pov - Freeform, Jaime and Brienne - Freeform, Pride and Humility, Rating Might Change, Sexy Times, Short Chapters, Sibling Incest, Sins and Virtues, Small points of Jaime's life, Snippets, Thoughts of death, a mix of both, book canon, brienne and jaime - Freeform, characters will be added, gluttony and temperance, greed and charity, lust and chastity, show canon, sloth and diligence, sword training with Ilyn, wrath and patience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: Here is my contribution to the Jaime and Brienne week 2020. I will try to upload every day but I don't know if I will make it. Each chapter will be both a sin and a virtue. Most stories will be from Jaime's POV.Each moment of Jaime's life is two sides of the same coin. He is both a sinner and a saint depending on which truth you receive and which Jaime he shows you.Chapter 1: Pride and Humility- His Greatest ActChapter 2: Envy and Kindness- His FamilyChapter 3: Wrath and Patience- His Actions have ConsequencesChapter 4: Sloth and Diligence- His Turning PointChapter 5: Greed and Charity- His BabesChapter 6: Gluttony and Temperance: His Heart's DesireChapter 7: Lust and Chastity: His True Love
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 26
Kudos: 111
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Week 2020





	1. Act 1: Pride and Humility: His Greatest Act

**Author's Note:**

> This is rough and unedited so I may come back to it to fix all the mistakes later. It took me a long time to write and I'm not sure how I feel about the final product. I really hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading it if you do. All comments are appreciated. Thank you so much for your time.

****

Act One- Pride and Humility: His Greatest Act

****

* * *

Jaime Lannister sat on the Iron Throne. His jade eyes were trained on the door. Waiting, watching. Any moment now someone would appear to find the Golden Lion of the Lannister House in his Lannister armor with a bloody sword in his hand. He licked his lips tasting the sweat that covered his upper lip. 

The doors to the throne room burst open and Ned Stark stormed inside. His grey eyes flickered across the room- over the dead body of the king to the man that sat on the throne. Jaime felt the disgust in the look as it settled firmly on him. He leaned forward in the seat. His lips curling into a satisfied smirk. If he wanted to judge him, Jaime would let him. He did not care what the wolf thought. A Lion would always be more powerful than a wolf.

Ned pulled out his long sword, holding it in his hands, ready to fight. Jaime’s smirk only got larger at the action. He didn’t move from this sitting position. He did not fear _Ned Stark_. Ned Stark should fear _him_. Everyone knew how talented Jaime was with a sword and now there was even more proof- a body cooling on the floor.

“Lannister,” the older man said. His eyes darkened. “Do you take the throne? A traitor turned King?”

Jaime shifted, his heart dropping from his chest to his stomach. He was no King. He would never want to be one. He kept his face still, the smirk on his lips the only expression. “I am merely waiting to see who will be the next to wear the crown. It is not me, I can tell you. Let another sit in this uncomfortable chair.” He rose from the Iron Throne and walked down the steps toward the other man. “Should I take the crown from the dead king and place it on your head, Stark? Should I bow?”

“Robert,” Ned responded, holding his sword more tightly. “He has defeated Rhaegar,” Jaime’s heart jumped again- this time to his throat. If Rhaegar was dead… “He is the rightful King.”

“Rightful,” Jaime scoffed. “That remains to be seen.” Ned lifted his chin. His cold eyes were throwing daggers at him. Jaime smiled without a care. “Do you wish to say something, Ned?”

The brunette male looked purposefully at the body that was surrounded by blood, urine and feces. “Were you so cowardly to stab a frail man in the back? I assume that means the rumors of your prowess as a fighter are just that… rumors.”

Jaime straightened his spine. His hand tightened on the sword in his hand, clenching and releasing the metal. “Do you wish to find out how good I am with a blade, Stark? Do you wish to end up on the floor with your blood pooling around you?” His smirk deepened and his eyes sharpened. “I can show you.” He lifted his left hand and extended his fingers in a welcoming gesture. “Come, Stark! You have your weapon ready and mine,” Jaime looked down at the blade covered in drying blood with a shrug, “It’s always ready for a new dance partner.”

Ned glared, “That would be a pleasure, Lannister. To spill your dishonorable blood and rid the world of your presence. You wore the white cloak and killed a king you were sworn to protect. Death would be too kind, but it is not my sentence to pass. I will leave that for the new King. I will let him decide to take your head and mount it on a spike for all to see.”

“My head,” Jaime laughed, amused and relaxed. “It will stay firmly attached to my neck. No one would dare take it. Not the new King- whomever that will be- nor, it appears, you.” Jaime grabbed the edge of his cloak- red was already on the white, the blood of the King. “You talk about the pleasure it would be to take my head and yet, you don’t.” His eyes met those of the other man. “Does fear stop you, Stark? Does the knowledge that it would not be my head rolling from my body but yours stop you? I do not fear what is to come, but you-” he nodded in Ned’s direction. “You do.”

“Pride is a deadly emotion, Lannister.” Ned said, leaning closer. “Many have died because of it. You will be one of them.”

“Is that a promise?” Jaime walked around him bumping his shoulder as he passed, stopping only to say, “Do not make such promises when you know you can’t keep them. Pride is not a fault with which I am concerned with. I know how good I am. I know the power my family holds.” He whispered harshly to the Northerner. “No one will touch _**me**_! I will be in my chambers if you wish to find me.”

Jaime walked out of the throne room, his head held high. The White cloak splattered with crimson whipped behind him. His smirk turned into a smile and the smile into a laugh. The King was dead and he was proud of his actions. Ned was right about that. The Golden Lion never felt more invincible than he did at that moment. Nothing and no one could touch him…

* * *

The steam rose around them as he sank into the bath. His bones were aching in a way he had not felt before. The fever was raging and pulling his mind in directions he dare not examine. Brienne of Tarth, the wench that caused him this pain, sat opposite him. Her large hands covered her meager breasts. He stared. He couldn’t help it. She was quiet in her contempt, but the contempt was there.

He leaned his head against the edge of the stone and closed his eyes. “Don’t let me drown. No Lannister has died in a bath and I will not be the first.” He opened them back up and looked at her.

She curled into herself. Still hiding her big body from him… as if he couldn’t see beneath the rippling water and steam. Her silence was getting to him. Did she not understand what agony she had caused? If she had not been…

He swallowed. She saved him- she had cleaned him and kept him alive. Jaime felt his phantom fingers flex. If not for her, he would be laying in horse shit and his own vomit. A flare of rage shot through him, he was _weak_. He couldn’t breathe suddenly. He had never been weak before. He had always been the lion! Feared and fierce. Now he could not even count on bathing himself without fear of drowning. 

His gaze on the woman sitting across from him sharpened. He wanted to lash out and cause her to snarl at him. Maybe then he would get the strength to fight… like he did on the bridge, like he did before he was nothing. Jaime started to pick at her. He pulled at the string around her heart- Renly. His words from the woods came back- _You don’t choose who you love…_ He flung words at her, striking out- “With you as his guard it is no wonder your precious Renly is dead.” 

His tone was contemptuous. He spat at her. He needed her to _**stop being quiet!**_. The heat in his blood matched the fever burning under his skin. _Come Wench! Come! Dance with me, you ugly-_

His mind stopped as she jumped to her feet. Water cascaded down her body, falling from her shoulders, sliding down her chest, over the hills and valleys of her form… and he felt his cock awaken. Jaime looked at her. She was so much different than Cersei. Her body was strong and pale with those damn freckles dotting her skin. The wiry batch of hair between her legs was thicker than his sister’s. He swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth. 

_I have been without a woman too long. I have been without Cersei for too long._

Brienne moved to the edge of the tub, ready to leave him, sick of his snide comments and his stomach tightened. He didn’t want to be alone. The thought of it was almost too much for him to think about. “Forgive me,” he said, honestly sorry for the first time. “You have protected me better than most.”

Her endless blue eyes were as cold as the North as she sat back down. No forgiveness given… he found himself longing for her to see him. Beyond the gold of his family, beyond the cruelness of his words, beyond the Kingslayer to the man he really was. His lips loosened and his deeds from the past- his greatest act- came spilling forth.

Brienne listened, her face slowly opening up and her eyes began to clear. He spoke and recounted. He forgot she was there and yet knew she was at the same time. He was stripped bare. More naked than he had ever been. The smirk that was always on his lips as he sneered at anyone that called him Kingslayer was nowhere to be seen. Seven and ten years he had held this secret from everyone- including Cersei, but he was telling _her_. He needed _her_ to know the truth. 

Once the last of his story was told, Brienne asked, “Why did you not tell everyone? Why did you not tell Ned Stark when he found you with the body?”

“You think the honorable Ned Stark wanted to hear the truth? He had judged me the moment he walked in.” A new rage built- one from resentment. “What right does the wolf have to judge the lion?” He made to stand, to set his feet and wail out his anger, but the fever overcame him and he started to fall. 

Her smooth and wet arms wrap around him. She held him to her breast, cradling him like a mother would a babe. “Come quick!” She yelled to the men just beyond the door. “The Kingslayer!”

Humble and weak he replied, “Jaime. My name is Jaime.”

Then he closed his eyes.

* * *


	2. Act 2: Envy and Kindness- His Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime must deal with the envy he feels and the consequences of what an act of kindness can be

**Act 2- Envy and Kindness: His family**

* * *

He didn’t drink. It had never been his vice- the thing he turned to. He liked being in control of his body and mind. But tonight Jaime indulged. He gulped down the bitter red wine. He filled his glass and lifted it to his lips. He drank deeply, pull after pull, filling his body with the poisonous liquid. He wanted to drown tonight. He wanted to rip the door from the King and Queen’s chamber and fuck her in front of Robert.

Gritting his teeth, he filled his glass again. He hated _him_. King Robert. What a fool! His big and large body should be nowhere near his beautiful twin’s. He could never please her. He should not be allowed to touch her! That was his right. _Only_ his right. From the time they were old enough to know what pleasure felt like, she had been his. It had been his hands that brought her to completion and his cock that filled her. He was the one that should have stood at the front of the Sept and taken her lips. Instead it had been _him_.

Robert Baratheon, brute and drunk, had his sweet sister pinned to the bed, taking her sweetness. Jaime lifted the cup to his lips and gulped the wine down. The thoughts of them together burned in his mind. Nothing could stop them. Not even the drink in his goblet. He gripped the stem of the glass hard, so hard he thought it would shatter in his hand. Oh how he wished the elegant stem was Robert’s neck. He would squeeze the life from him and take joy in watching it ebb from his eyes. 

Then he would take his rightful place in Cersei’s bed. He would have the life that was being denied to him. Jaime raged inside at the laws that prevented him from showing his love. He hated the Septons and the church. He hated his white cloak and his duty. This was not the life he had dreamed of. Jaime wished to rip the armor from his body and rush to her door. He wanted to take her away- they could live in peace in Essos.

Jaime’s lips curled in a sneer. That would never do. Cersei was a Queen. She had always been one in her mind and now she wore the crown. She would never give that up to live like a pauper. And he would never make her. Jaime wanted no- he needed her to be happy. He would do what he had to to ensure she got what she deserved. No matter the cost. He would bury his envy over another man between her legs because he knew that she loved only him. 

Jaime walked around his chamber in the white tower. His stomach rolling. He would do whatever she wanted. That was his place in the world. Cersei’s secret love, her champion, the man that would move the mountains until they crashed into the sea for her. 

A knock at his door stopped him from his pacing. He glared at the wooden panel. He wanted no visitors- except one. He wanted to stew in his envy over another and drink himself to oblivion. The knocking continued to the point he growled out loud and rushed to open the door. His teeth were bared by the time he twisted the metal handle. 

He immediately relaxed at the sight of his brother. The dwarf looked at him with understanding eyes and held up a full bottle of wine. Jaime moved out of the way, letting the other man in. Tyrion looked around the room and so did Jaime. His blurry eyes sharpened and he frowned. When had he thrown the goblet into the fireplace? When had he ripped his white cloak from his body and trampled it to the point he could see footprints? When…

“I thought you could use some wine and a kind ear, but it seems you have started without me.” The younger man jumped up into a chair at the small table in the middle of the room. He tilted his head, his mismatched eyes watchful and cunning. “Would you like me to pour you another?”

“I have had quite a lot already,” Jaime took a seat across from him. “The day was very trying.”

“Yes,” Tyrion nodded. “I bet it was.” Their eyes met and a silent communication was had. “Cersei looked quite pleased this evening. The golden crown on her golden head seemed the perfect fit.”

“She was made to be on the throne,” Jaime replied.

“Robert is on the throne, Jaime.” Tyrion responded. “She is his wife. Her duty is to bear his kids and to be pretty.”

“Robert is a fool,” Jaime sneered. “She is much more than just a breeding mare.”

His brother was quiet for a long moment, sipping from the wine he poured himself. Finally he spoke with an intelligent gaze. “The green of your eyes are especially rich on this night, dear brother. To some it would almost be seen as envy, but we both know that is not the case,” Jaime looked away, pressing his lips together and clenching his hands into fists. “As you have it all and would not covet Robert’s place… on the throne or with _a_ Queen.” Jaime’s lips pulled back. His brother knew. It wasn’t _a_ Queen he wanted. It was _the_ Queen. The one he had fucked before and would fuck again. “Be mindful Jaime. The Red Keep has eyes everywhere.”

Yes, he knew that. With a deep breath, he grabbed the goblet his brother offered and downed it quickly. “I wish to live as I always have, dear brother,” he said. “Only a fool would want the throne.”

“And what about a Queen?”

Jaime glared at him. “I am a knight in the Kingsguard. I shall take no wife and bear no children.”

“That is the vow,” Tyrion said, lifting his glass. “Let us toast to it. And to our sweet sister. Let you both get what you wish for.”

“Cheers,” Jaime tipped his glass to Tyrion’s and drank. 

The brothers indulged into the wee hours of the morn until Tyrion stumbled out of the tower and Jaime fell into the bed. His brother’s words came back just before the stupor took him- his green eyes were especially rich on this night. Well it was the morn now and he would be better at shielding what he thought.

He will bury whatever envy he felt like he buried his disgust at listening to the King rape his wife. He would never let Robert or any of them know… and when the time was right- he would take what was his. Cersei would always be his.

* * *

The cells were dark and damp. The smell of feces and urine hit him with a force. Jaime entered the room and inhaled sharply at seeing his brother for the first time. His face had a cut down the length, his nose was nearly taken. The cunning eyes that were always sharp and aware were dull and tired. Jaime felt his heart drop to his knees at the look of him.

Tyrion waited for Jaime to close the door before he lifted himself up to stand. The older Lannister set the torch down and went to meet his sibling in a hug. His arms circled Tyrion’s waist and he buried his face in the dirt and grime on his shoulder. 

“Tyrion,” he whispered. “What has happened?”

“I was made to fight without my big brother to protect me.” The dwarf said. “I have missed you, dear brother.”

“And I have missed you,” Jaime pulled back and settled on the straw that covered the floor. Tyrion eased himself back down slowly as well. “Much has taken place since I have been away.”

Tyrion looked at the golden hand. “Yes, it appears so. I am sorry about your hand Jaime.”

“Nothing to be done,” he shrugged. “Those that did the act will pay. Father and I will see to that.”

“Father…” Tyrion’s eyes became cold. “He wishes me dead. He will put me on trial for a crime that was not done by me.”

“Cersei believes that it was. You gave the goblet to Joffrey. You have never loved him as you have Myrcella and Tommen.” The tone of the words was more a question than an accusation. 

“Are you asking if I killed the King?” Jaime kept quiet. He didn’t believe that Tyrion would kill Joffrey. He knew his brother. He was smart, smart enough not to do something so foolish. But he needed to hear the words. A part of him, deep down, needed the words. “Are you asking if I killed your son?”

Jaime inhaled sharply. No one had ever said the word out loud except Cersei when she needed him to do something- or remind him of his place. It sounded wrong to hear it from his brother. It made his insides clench and his stomach to revolt. He had always thought of Joffrey as Robert’s son, but the golden hair and skin showed the truth.

“Are you here to kill me?” Tyrion finally asked. 

Jaime had never seen his brother look so small and frail before. Even though he was much shorter than most, he always felt large. His wit and presence filled the space to the point of making him a giant. Jaime’s mouth dried out and he had to swallow several times to speak.

“Are you really asking if I could kill my own brother?”

“As you have stated, much has changed since you have been away,” Tyrion shrugged. “I have many enemies in our family…”

“I am not one,” Jaime asserted. “Cersei will come to realize…”

“Nothing,” Tyrion interrupted. “She has wished for my death since I was born and took my first breath. Father is not much better. I know where I stand. I know I will die by one of their hands. I was just unsure if you were willing to carry out the sentence.”

“I will not,” Jaime shook his head. “I have enough blood on my hands. I do not wish to add yours to it.” He stood up and pulled an old key from his pocket. “I am here to ensure you live.”

“Cersei will hate you,” Tyrion warned even as he moved to extend the shackles out. “She will not forgive you so easily.”

“She has already made her feelings known,” Jaime said as he thought back to her disgusted face while she looked at his stump. He recalled how she pleaded with him to kill their brother, for her, for their son. Jaime freed him from his bonds. “Come, brother, we need to move quickly.”

They moved through the underground of the castle. Spiders and cobwebs clinging to their bodies as they pushed through. Once they reached the end, Jaime turned to his brother and knew he had to tell him one more truth. It was a brutal kindness to be sure, but Tyrion deserved to know. His heart broke at the thought of losing his brother’s love, still he pushed through.

“Before I leave you, I need you to know something,” Tyrion looked at him with complete trust. It felt like a knife to his skin. “Tysha…”

The words fell from his lips, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t until the last bit of his confession was done. Tyrion stepped away from him. His gaze hard and his mouth set. Anger and pain were clear in his expression. Jaime felt them, he deserved them.

What Tyrion said next was something he was not expecting- a brutal truth of his own. Cersei’s betrayal. The men she had slept with. The lies she had told. Tyrion spat the words out, letting them fall between them. Jaime stiffened and denied, crawled into himself. It could not be true. It would never be true.

He felt cold standing in the tunnels watching Tyrion walk away from him. He did not regret freeing his brother- his act of true kindness- but the realization he had lost him anyway burned his soul to black. He made his way back to the White Tower. He had more to do… he had a lot to think about… He needed to free one other person from this viper’s nest.

* * *


	3. Act 3: Wrath and Patience- His Actions have Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He sat in the room, his teeth on edge. His hand tightening around the parchment. A fire burned slowly through him. Rolling and growing until he felt like he was going to burn to ash. He had never felt anger like this before. This uncontrollable rage that seemed to color his vision. He tried to calm himself, but it was nearly impossible. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of wrath. It was swallowing him up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone that has read this. Thank you to those that have left Kudos. It really means a lot to me. I hope that you like this part. Please let me know what you think. It really does brighten my day to hear from you. Thank you again to anyone that is enjoying this!

**Act 3: Wrath and Patience- His Actions have Consequences**

**

* * *

**

He sat in the room, his teeth on edge. His hand tightening around the parchment. A fire burned slowly through him. Rolling and growing until he felt like he was going to burn to ash. He had never felt anger like this before. This uncontrollable rage that seemed to color his vision. He tried to calm himself, but it was nearly impossible. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of wrath. It was swallowing him up.

Jaime read the words again and again he could not see anything beyond the power of his anger. Tyrion has been captured. He was taken by the Starks- held because of some falsehood. As if Tyrion would ever kill a child! His brother was better than he. He was the true killer of kids. He was the one that had blood on his sword from a King and Lords and peasants. It was he who should be held at sword point, not his brother! 

He stood suddenly. His legs carried him across the room quickly. This would not do! His brother will never be a prisoner to those fucking _wolves_! He would make this right. He _avenge_ this. He will make them all pay for daring to tug on the tail of a lion! 

Grabbing his sword, he pulled the blade from the sheath. The sound of the steel made him smile. It was vicious and thirsty for blood. The blood of a wolf- all the wolves. He would tear them down, tear them apart. Nothing would be left of them when he was done. He slid the blade back into the cover and latched it to his belt. 

It was time to hunt. Jaime was a lion on the prowl for those that took his brother. His enemies would die this day and he would get Tyrion back. He would make sure everyone knew the consequences of taking someone he loved. Starting with the head wolf…

Ned Stark would pay first. He would meet Jaime’s steel. He would bleed for taking Tyrion from the Lannisters. He would taste the anger that was pulsing through Jaime. Every slash of his sword would be singing Tyrion’s name, over and over again. A lion would always kill the wolf.

Jaime walked through the Red Keep with one focus: to find Eddard Stark. The man that had looked down on him since he saw him on that throne all those years ago. It was time he learned who Jaime was. The rumors of his skill would no longer be a rumor to Ned. He would _know_ and Jaime would take joy in teaching him. 

He gathered his men and found Ned in the courtyard with Littlefinger. The older man was standing there surrounded by men of his own. Their eyes met- both knew this would be a bloody battle. One that had been destined to happen. Two forces that were always going to clash eventually. Jaime smirked, his anger fuelling his confidence. This would be a short battle- one that would end with Ned’s head on a spike.

“Lannister,” Ned acknowledged. 

“I am looking for my brother. You remember my brother, don’t you, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp of tongue, short man.” Jaime replied jumping from his horse and walking around the other man like a predator hunting his prey. “He had some trouble on the road.”

“Catelyn has taken your brother prisoner to answer for his crimes,” The wolf responded. His shoulders rolled back and his steel-colored eyes sharpened.

“Show your blade, Stark!” The rage that had been clawing at him since he learned of his brother’s capture sprang forth and he pulled his sword from his belt. He looked briefly to the man next to Ned in his expensive clothes and sneered at him, “Leave us now, Littlefinger, if you wish to keep your clothes clean of blood.”

Littlefinger makes haste to leave the dueling men. His yellow-belly showing as he scurried from the scene. His only comment to Ned was that he would bring the city guard with him upon return. Jaime’s sneer grew. Let them all come to see the great Ned Stark in his piss and shit! He gripped his sword tighter. Jaime bared his teeth, showing them to the wolf. 

Ned pulled his sword out, ready to battle, ready to draw blood. The men around him, the soldiers loyal to Ned- the men at Jaime’s side, draw their blades as well. Three against twenty. The odds were more than stacked in Jaime’s favor, but he did not need them. He would slice through them all single handedly in he needed to. The wrath that burned him also gave him clarity. His focus was singular and strong. 

“If I die this day,” Ned said through clenched teeth. “Your brother will not live. Catelyn will take his life in replace of mine. He will swing from the trees and his blood will be on your hands.”

That shook him to this core. That made him pause. Ned was right. Catelyn had his brother and Tyrion would pay once again for his actions. Through the rage his stomach revolted at the thought. He could not, would not, let that happen… but someone would pay! 

“Do not harm the Wolf,” Jaime called to his men. “Kill his guards! Kill them all.” Twenty men stormed forth and slaughtered those that protected the Wolf. Ned was stricken by the masscre that happened before him. His face was grave and tight. His eyes sad and vengeful. Jaime let the blood wash some of his rage away. “I want my brother back.” He said once it was done and he returned to his horse. 

Jaime rode back to the Red Keep still enraged at not being able to avenge his brother. _I would kill the Starks_ , he vowed to himself. _Once Tyrion has been returned, every one of them would taste his blade._

**

* * *

**

Brienne held herself away from him. Her eyes downcast and her body weak. She refused to look in his direction for more than a moment. Jaime waited. His stomach rolling and his mind turning with questions. In the firelight he saw the scar around her neck. An unmistakable one. One that made him clench his left hand and wish with all his might for his right one. Someone had hurt her. Someone had nearly killed her and he had not been there. 

He spooned some soup into a bowl and handed it to her with a shaky hand. Brienne took the offering and mumbled a thank you before placing the bowl on the ground next to her without eating it. Jaime sat back against the log at his back and watched her. Her large hands picked at the material of her pants as she continued to stare into the fire dancing before them.

“Eat wench,” he commanded. “You are nearly skin over bones and need food. We have a long road ahead of us if we wish to reach Sansa and the Hound…” he stopped talking at her wince. It was subtle but he saw the tightening of her mouth and heard the sharp inhale. “Wench?”

“I am not hungry,” she told him in a hushed voice. “I am tired though and wish to rest.” Her endless blue eyes met his for just a moment and his heart stopped beating. “That is if you don’t mind taking first watch. I will only rest my eyes and then will give you a break.”

Jaime wanted to scream at her to tell him what she was hiding. Something was amiss and he _knew_ it. He could taste it and it filled him with dread. What could be awaiting him? It surely wasn’t the Hound. Her ability to lie was not that good that he believed her. The Maid of Tarth was leading him somewhere dark.

She curled up on her side facing away from him. Her body shook with each inhale and exhale she took. Sickness rattled her chest and made her shiver even next to the fire. He got up from his place on the ground and sat close to her. Her sleep was restless. It hurt to see her this way. The warrior woman he had come to know and respect was lost in this shell of a person. 

Dreams took her over, making her whimper and cry. Soft tears leaked from her eyes as she moaned in pain- real or imagined he could not say, but it gutted him. He felt the anguish of her night terrors as if they were his own. Jaime rested his hand on her ruined cheek, caressing the puckered skin. She let out another painfilled moan and whispered, “I’m sorry, Jaime.”

His eyes closed. He knew she was. Whatever had happened to her on the road, had taken something pure from her. He recognized the wreckage- he knew how it felt to be broken. Jaime gathered her cloak- ratty as it was- and draped it over her. She curled more tightly into a ball. Her dreams continued to plague her, making his name and Pod’s fall from her lips more than once. He listened to her pleas for forgiveness as he caressed her cheek.

“Oh Lady Brienne,” he whispered to the wind. “What has happened to you?”

No answers came to him. Only the leaves shaking in the wind and the broken sobs of the woman at his side. Jaime looked up into the night sky, watching the stars dance and twinkle. He did not know what wrongs she thought she had done, but he would find out.

He would be patient with her.

He would wait on her good soul to tell him the truth. 

And then they would fight together. Because someone hurt her and they would have to pay for their crimes.

But first… he would wait.

****

* * *


	4. Act 4: Sloth and Diligence: His Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime had tasted the pain of steel through flesh before. As with many fighters, he had bled and had to heal from wounds placed upon his skin by other men. It had always been in the field of battle. He had always been given a chance to cause his adversary the same or more pain than they had caused him._
> 
> _The Bloody Mummers had not played fair. Jaime had not had the chance to swing his own sword. He had been held down, and someone had butchered his hand from his body. The sight of his blood spilling onto the rock had been the most frightening thing he had ever witnessed. His prized paw was gone, and all he could do was scream out his pain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little disaster. I'm behind and I'm sorry about that. Real life and a heavy work load got in the way of writing. I hope you like this chapter. Thank you again for the comments and the kudos! It means the world to me. You have no idea how much.

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Act 4: Sloth and Diligence: His Turning Point

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Jaime had tasted the pain of steel through flesh before. As with many fighters, he had bled and had to heal from wounds placed upon his skin by other men. It had always been in the field of battle. He had always been given a chance to cause his adversary the same or more pain than they had caused him.

The Bloody Mummers had not played fair. Jaime had not had the chance to swing his own sword. He had been held down, and someone had butchered his hand from his body. The sight of his blood spilling onto the rock had been the most frightening thing he had ever witnessed. His prized paw was gone, and all he could do was scream out his pain.

The laughing men around him and the calls of the wench had drowned in the emptiness of his mind. He couldn’t hear anything. All he wanted was to fall into nothing. After all, that’s what he was without his sword hand- _nothing_.

One day of agony turned into another. Jaime was a shell of the cocksure man he was only days before. He fell into himself. Jaime wanted to fade away- from the pain, from the jokes of lesser men. His senses quieted, and he became mute. His tongue thick in his mouth- too thick to eat or talk or scream. He felt like fruit left exposed to the sun. His skin was black, and flies buzzed around his head, searching for the source of the stench that clung to him.

Rotten. That’s all Jaime smelt—the rotting of his flesh, the rotting of his will to live. The bloody mummers sang songs all around him. The hand- his dominant hand, his sword hand- hung from his neck, swaying from side to side under his nose as the horse moved. Most would be bothered by the constant weight and rancid smell, Jaime, however, couldn’t bring himself to care. Death was eating away at him, and he welcomed it. Calling out in his mind for the God of death to come and get him.

_Come Stranger! Take your prize. The Lannister heir- once Golden and perfect- now a mere wretch. Come! Find me! Take me, you bony coward!_

Every night he waited as he refused to give a fuck about anything. Would this be the one? Would this be the night that he would finally be taken from this misery? Oh, how he hoped it was. The pain was too much. The smell of his own decay too fresh. The words of joy from the men that took his hand- the only good part of him- was picking at the wounds. He _hated_ them. They _killed_ him. They took from him, and he could not do anything but die now. His enemies would be so pleased to know that he died smelling of shit and piss.

The men threw him down on the ground, kicking his side for good measure. The wench fell to her knees and helped him to sit up, using the edge of her dirty sleeve to wipe the mud from his face. Jaime lets her fuss but doesn’t move to aid in her efforts.

Why should he? The dead don’t care about the husk that gets left behind. The shell was broken anyhow. Why worry about mud and horse shit on his face? Once he was propped up straight, she handed him a bowl of slop the damnable men deemed food. He placed the bowl on the ground.

Brienne sat across from him. Her astonishing blue eyes cut him as profoundly as the arakh had. She glared at him over the small fire between them. Her ugly face contorted in annoyance. Jaime almost found it amusing that she was bothered by him now, but cleaning his shit, vomit, and piss was nothing to cause a fuss over. He did not understand this beast of a woman. 

“What are you doing?” She hissed. Her voice was rising and becoming deeper.

Jaime almost smirked but didn’t. “What does it look like I’m doing? I am dying!”

“Dying?” She scoffed. “You would give them that? I thought you were supposed to be the great Jaime Lannister! You talked incessantly and pushed me to anger while my prisoner, but you just cower now when you face a little adversity?”

“What would you have me do, wench?!”

“Fight!”

“They have taken the best part of me! How can I fight?”

“You fight by _not_ dying! You fight by getting revenge. You live! That is how you fight!” Her cheeks reddened, blotchy, and unattractively. “Do it for you. Do it for Cersei if you must. Think of something worth living for.” 

A small flame flickered inside his dead soul- Cersei. Yes, he needed to live to get back to her. He would not die without her arms around him. He would not give them that! They were meant to die together. They were two halves of the same soul. He would also make them pay for daring to maim a lion. Yes, the wench had the right of it. He would survive and take each of their hearts from their chests. 

He lifted the bowl of piss to his lap and ate it with renewed vigor. Brienne watched him with a small, barely-there smile. She started to eat her gruel with as much enthusiasm as he did. Each warrior planned for the pain they would bestow upon these weak men. It would be delicious to feast while they screamed.

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Had he a tongue, Ilyn Payne would have laughed every time Jaime picked up his sword. Next to even the greenest squire, Jaime would have looked laughable. His grip on the hilt never seemed strong enough in the face of another soldier. His movements were jerky and not at all fluid. It was humbling to not even do the most basic maneuver without almost falling over. But still, he picked up his blade every day and forced the other knight to train with him.

Ilyn’s hard, and often times off-putting grunts became less and less as Jaime relearned the ways of the sword. He knew deep down he would never be what he once was. Those days had been taken from him by the swift action of an arakh coming down. But he could be serviceable again. He would be more than that eventually.

Each day, the weight in his left hand felt less cumbersome. Each day his parries came a little more rapid. Each day, he was able to defend a moment longer than the day before. Each day, he got better. Jaime had always loved the sounds of blades colliding. It was a song he knew. It was a dance the once golden lion of House Lannister was good at. A dance he had been the best at before.

A sennight into training, Jaime swung with more power than he had in a while, catching Ilyn off guard. The knight stumbled, and he took advantage. He continued to swing; he continued to advance, he moved with more grace and pushed the Knight back. It felt like he had gained a piece of his soul back. A grin lifted his lips at each backward step of the other man.

Jaime laughed loudly, but eventually, the strength of before waned, and he was on the defensive. The blade in his hand felt heavier, and his responses to Ser Ilyn’s attacks were slower as a result. Two good and quick lunges sent him to his ass on the hard ground with Ilyn’s sword tip at his throat. Jaime gripped his blade and said through gritted teeth, “I yield.”

Ilyn nodded, sheathing his sword and extending his hand to Jaime. The younger man released his sword and took the offering of assistance. Once on his feet, he reached down and grabbed his blade. He turned to Ilyn, who had a thoughtful expression on his face. Jaime wondered what he was thinking about, but knew he would never get an answer if he asked. King Areys had made damn sure Ilyn’s thoughts were never voiced again. 

They made their way back to the camp, where the other soldiers were finishing up their morning chores when Jaime placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Ilyn stopped walking and lifted his left eyebrow. “On the morrow, we will rise earlier. I feel some strength coming back on my parries and want to practice more on them. I will send Peck to your tent at the break of dawn.”

Jaime removed his hand, expecting a grunt of annoyance as a reply. Instead, Ilyn had that thoughtful expression on his face and then nodded. Jaime watched the Knight move through the campsite toward his tent for a moment longer. A tiny smile lifted his lips as he gripped the hilt of his sword. The tightness of his fingers on the metal was more muscular than before. Jaime could feel the difference.

He knew he would never be what he once was as a fighter. Those days were gone, but he also knew his diligence in training was working. He vowed to himself- he would be more than serviceable- that was no longer his objective. 

Jaime Lannister would stand on a battlefield again and fight. He would rip his blade through his enemies once more.

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	5. Act 5: Greed and Charity: His Babes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The Sept was filled with nobles. Lords and ladies whispered behind their hands, gossiping about the Lannister troubles. It was overwhelming and warm. Jaime looked at his father, laying prone on the slab of marble. His pale green eyes were covered with stones painted to resemble the orbs hidden by closed lids. The scent of decaying flesh was hard to ignore, but Jaime stood firm beside the body. He held his sword lightly in his hand, turning to watch his son- the new King- take his seat in the front row. The youth glanced up at the body of his grandfather and mentor with a sick expression._  
> 
> 
> _His round face was pulled, and his little nose wrinkled. Jaime continued to watch him as the others filled the room to show respect to and to see the demise of the great Lion. The Septon took his place at the front of the gathering. The older adult dressed dark brown robes with a heavy chain with a seven-pointed star hanging from it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really trying to catch up. LOL. Thank you again for reading and leaving kudos. Please, please, please let me know what you think. It means so much to me.

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**Act 5: Greed and Charity: His Babes**

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The Sept was filled with nobles. Lords and ladies whispered behind their hands, gossiping about the Lannister troubles. It was overwhelming and warm. Jaime looked at his father, laying prone on the slab of marble. His pale green eyes were covered with stones painted to resemble the orbs hidden by closed lids. The scent of decaying flesh was hard to ignore, but Jaime stood firm beside the body. He held his sword lightly in his hand, turning to watch his son- the new King- take his seat in the front row. The youth glanced up at the body of his grandfather and mentor with a sick expression.

His round face was pulled, and his little nose wrinkled. Jaime continued to watch him as the others filled the room to show respect to and to see the demise of the great Lion. The Septon took his place at the front of the gathering. The older adult dressed dark brown robes with a heavy chain with a seven-pointed star hanging from it. 

The words were bland and monotone. Jaime did not hear most of it. He knew the speech already. Glowing comments about Tywin. How he led his family with a firm but loving hand- Jaime wanted to scoff out loud. He was so caring, he had plans to kill Tyrion without care, and that led to Tyrion deciding to kill him. His father was so devoted that his daughter both wanted to be him and secretly hated him all at once. The speech was bloated and false. The only true statement the Septon said about his father was that he had plans for all his children. He most certainly did. Each of them had a role to play in the family, and each had disappointed him.

Jaime clutched the hilt of the sword on his hip. He continued to stand and stare at his son. The young boy- heavens help the child, and he _was_ just a boy, king turned from the sight in front of him. His chubby little fingers were curled tightly into the material of his jerkin. The cherub curls of his golden hair were sticking to his forehead from the heat. Jaime grew concerned over Tommen as the golden color of his skin started to fade. 

His eyes flickered to Cersei. Her face was covered with a handkerchief dapping at her cheeks. Jaime’s lips pulled back. False words and fake tears filled the sept. He waited for her to look at her son- their son, but she didn’t. Her concern was on appearing sad and not as fucking pissed and bitter as she truly was. He gripped the handle of his sword harder than ever. He wanted to scream at her to look at _him_. He needed her!

The heat was getting to him. Sweat gathered like rivers down his back. He turned his attention back to his son and saw him start to slump in his seat. Jaime wanted to lead him from the Sept, remove him from the heat, and the stench of death. He was just about to take him by the hand when Tommen ran out of the Sept. His little body disappeared out the door to the gasp and louder whispers of the sheep sitting in their seats. 

Cersei barely moved. Her act still in place. Jaime growled deep in his throat and left his post by his father and took off after him. He pushed open the doors to more hushed words. He didn’t give a shit what they said about him abandoning his post. Fuck them all! He needed to check on his son. 

Tommen was on the top step with his head resting on his knees. His face was covered, and his shoulders were shaking. His heart broke for the little boy. He had already been through so much- the death of his _father_ , the murder of his brother, the trial of his uncle, and now his grandfather’s death. Jaime held his breath. Most adults would break under that much pain, and he was only a sweet child. 

He sat on the step next to his babe, placing his hand on his back, rubbing it gently like his mother used to do for him. “You can be sad, Tommen. It’s okay to cry.”

His son looked up at him with watery eyes. “I know. But I don’t want to.” The young child’s lip trembled. “I just-”

“I know,” Jaime said. He kept a deep breath. He could never be a father to his son. He could never cradle him close and keep the ghosts at bay. He didn’t even save the boy from his mother. With a burning need, he longed to give the sweet boy what he could. Jaime offered him what he could. He gave his son the only thing he could- his well intentioned advice. “You just need to think of something else. Think about your kittens or Ser Pounce or how much you love to play with Myrcella. Find something that makes you happy and go there, Tommen. Stay there. It will help with the smell and the hurt.”

He knew it wasn’t much. It was the same advice that Arthur had given him while he struggled with hearing the King rape the Queen. It was what he told the wench while the Bloody Mummers spoke gleefully about raping _her_. And he gave his son the same advice. The simple words was all the help he could give him without putting his son’s life at risk. The charity was woefully inadequate. Jaime knew that. He _knew_ that. 

Tommen nodded his head. His large green eyes cleared and he held himself a little straighter. “Thank you, Uncle Jaime.” Jaime wanted to wince, but stopped himself. _Uncle Jaime_. “It wasn’t really the smell.” He kicked his leg and a small rock bounced down the steps. “It was so hot in there. I just couldn’t…”

“It was.” Jaime acknowledged. “Why don’t we just sit out here? It is much cooler.”

“Mother will be mad,” Tommen said with a shaky voice.

“I’ll talk with her,” he ran his hand through his son’s curls, reveling in the softness of them. “She will understand.”

The boy smiled at him and nodded. That was another gift he could give the young man. He could keep him as safe as possible. He _will_ keep him safe. He will give him all he can. That would be his greatest gift to him- his son.

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The day she came to him to tell him that she was with child, he felt his heart jump into his throat. The day he first felt the babe move under her skin, he fell so deeply in love he felt like his heart would burst from his chest. The first time he heard her whisper how much she loved their babe to her stomach, he knew he would move mountains into the sea and kill any person that dared hurt her. The day he sent the raven to her father to get his approval to ask for her hand, he was shaking. The day Brienne said yes- he made a vow that he would be a man that deserved her.

When she called to him in fear as her stomach cramped and their babe demanded to be birthed- he had been scared. Jaime couldn’t lose her. He would not survive it. She was the best part of him. She made him better and he _needed_ to have her in his life. She was _his_. The moment the midwife placed the screaming babe into his arms- he was terrified and enchanted. The warmth of the tiny body pressed into his chest made his stomach flutter. He never wanted to let him go. He buried his nose in the soft patch of blonde hair and inhaled deeply. The innocent babe in his arms cooed so sweetly, he sighed. _His baby!_ A child he could claim. _His_ to love freely and openly. He never wanted to let him go. _**Endrew Tybolt Lannister.**_ A perfect, beautiful boy that he could kiss and hug and no one would take him.

Jaime lifted his head and looked at the woman that gave him this gift. Brienne smiled at him. Her straw-colored hair was stuck to her head, her cheeks were red and blotchy from the strain of bring their babe into the world. He walked over to the bed and leaned over her, kissing her soundly. He wanted this life- with her, with their son. 

A knock at their Inn door caused Jaime to growl aggressively. He didn’t want to share this time with anyone. He had never been able to be greedy with his other children- he could now. He held Endrew closer to his chest. He felt like a trapped lion and he was ready to lash out at whomever was beyond the door. 

Brienne placed her hand on his arm, “It is only Podrick.”

He took several deep breaths. Calming himself and his dark desire to keep Brienne and his son from another soul. He stood from the bed with reluctance, opening the door after gripping the knob hard in his hand. The young man stood still in front of the older knight. Pod smiled at him and looked at the babe still cradled in his arms. 

“A boy?” Pod asked. Jaime nodded. “Can I see him, Ser?”

Jaime opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off and leave, but Brienne asked behind him. “Of course, you can.” The bed creaked behind him as she moved on it. “Jaime let him hold our son.”

 _ **No,**_ he wanted to snarl, but he handed the babe over. Endrew cried out at first. His tiny face tightened up and he let out a strong wail. Pod was gentle, being so careful and holding the child with a soft touch. Jaime still wanted to take Endrew back. A moment was enough in his estimation. He pushed the desire to do what he wanted down and watched the other man rock his son to sleep. Pod sang quietly to the boy. Jaime’s back relaxed at the scene. 

Pod looked at the couple, first Jaime then to Brienne, and grinned. “He is beautiful, Ser, My Lady. You must be so happy with the Gods blessing you.”

“We are,” Brienne said and he met her eyes on a turn. Jaime rushed over to her- craving her as much as he was his son. They were his life now and he was greedy. He wanted them all to himself. _His_! “Pod have you heard about anyone coming to find us?”

“We are safe, My Lady,” he said as he handed their son back to Jaime. “I will stay with the other soldiers and keep watch.” He smiled at them on the bed again. “He really is beautiful.”

Pod left them alone. Jaime leaned over her, pressing his lips on her forehead. “Lady Brienne, I will ensure you and our son will never be harmed by a false king or my sweet sister. No one will take you from me. You are mine.”

Her blue eyes shined and she placed a large hand on his cheek. “Always, my lion. Until the end of my days.”

He kissed her passionately, holding her to him, pulling her closer to him. His love, his babe, _**his**_. He had been forced into the dark many times- held away from his children and the woman that he thought he loved with every breath he took. Now that he was in the light with his true love- he knew now what it felt like to be loved in return. Jaime learned something about himself- he was a greedy man. 

With these people in his arms, he was very greedy indeed.

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	6. Act 6: Gluttony and Temperance: His Heart's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime entered the room that Cersei told him to and sat on the bed. His stomach was in knots waiting for her to appear. They had planned this secret meeting for moons. Just the two of them. His cock became hard thinking about all the things they talked about. He licked his lips, watching the door. He wanted her here now. He needed to fuck her, finally._
> 
> _The teasing of their youth had left him needing more. He wanted to indulge in her sweetness the way over men indulged in mead. His twin had always been his weakness. He was a glutton when it came to her. More was never enough. _Nothing_ was ever enough._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the blitz of chapters. I was trying to catch up and had to write the last three days' worth today. I'm so relieved to be back on track. Thank you to everyone that read the story. Tomorrow is the last day, and this has been an adventure. Please let me know what you think of the story. All your comments and kudos mean the world to me! Thank you again!!

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_Act 6: Gluttony and Temperance: His Heart’s Desire_

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Jaime entered the room that Cersei told him to and sat on the bed. His stomach was in knots waiting for her to appear. They had planned this secret meeting for moons. Just the two of them. His cock became hard thinking about all the things they talked about. He licked his lips, watching the door. He wanted her here now. He needed to fuck her, finally.

The teasing of their youth had left him needing more. He wanted to indulge in her sweetness the way over men indulged in mead. His twin had always been his weakness. He was a glutton when it came to her. More was never enough. _Nothing_ was ever enough. 

His thoughts were broken up by the door opening. His mouth went dry at seeing his sexy sister in a bar wench’s outfit. The bodice hugged her large breasts making them stick out and spill over her dress. Her golden hair was tied in a messy knot at the back of her head. He growled, leaping from the mattress to wrap her up in his arms. 

“Sweet sister,” he purred in her ear.

“Not tonight, dear brother,” she clawed at his clothes. “Tonight I’m your whore. Fuck me, Jaime. Fuck me hard. I need you.”

Jaime spun her around and tore her bodice apart. He sucked on her tits, drank from her lips, and licked the honey from her cunt. Each part of her made him drunk. She pulled at his hair and rode his face to completion. She moaned his name over and over then pulled at his pants. She sucked his hard cock down, taking him whole. He felt his knees buckle and locked them to keep himself from falling. She hummed around his dick, cupping and squeezing his balls. 

He pushed her back before he spilled his seed in her throat. Jaime pushed her smallclothes aside and plunged into her wet cunt. He grunted over her, slamming his hips against her. Their fucking was raw and fast. They needed to come together hard. Cersei bit at his chest and he pulled her leg over his hip to get a better angle. 

Their first time was over too quick for Jaime’s liking. He wanted to fuck her into the floor and never slide from her cunt. He collapsed on top of her breathing heavily and dazed from climaxing so hard. She caressed his back as he came down from the high he was on and rolled off of her. 

She leaned over him, playing his nipple and sucking on his neck, “You want me to be happy, right Jaime?”

“Of course I do,” he moaned. 

“You know father is trying to marry me off,” she nipped at his ear and he pulled her close. “I’m so lonely without you. Come to King’s Landing, Jaime- join the Kingsguard. Don’t leave me alone.”

“Father will never allow it.”

“If King Aerys tells him to do it, father will not object. You can be by myself during the day and warm my bed at night. Please, Jaime,” she kissed him and he got drunk on her again. “Please, I’ll take care of everything.”

She climbed on top of him, sliding down on his hard cock. She fucked him hard, begging him to save her from being lonely. He couldn’t do anything but agree with whatever she wanted. He was her puppet. He was gluttonous for her. He would do _anything_ she wanted.

He was her Knight and she was his damsel. Together, they were sending each other to the seven hells, but it felt like the seven heavens. Jaime vowed to her that he would take the white. He would give up everything. He would be hers until the end of time…

Jaime never realized she didn’t vow to do the same.

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Lady Stoneheart was frightening. Jaime wanted to vomit when he saw her. A dead woman was walking with gray skin and black blood oozing from her neck. He looked at Brienne, kneeling on the ground, men surrounding her as she pleaded for answers. “Where is he?” The wench screamed. “I have done as you wish. I have brought Ser Jaime- where is he?”

 _I have done as you wish._ Her words- the truth finally revealed. He wished he could pretend to be surprised by her betrayal, but he wasn’t. He had known that her words were lies. He had known he was walking into a dark situation. Jaime turned away from the wench and looked back at the moving corpse. Weirdly watching Lady Catelyn once considered beautiful and kind, have her outside reflect her true nature was fascinating. 

The woman had always been cold and cruel, but no one had ever seen it. She was like Cersei- only with a husband that loved her and protected her from others knowing the woman underneath. There was no denying her cruelty now. It was on display- just like his golden hand. She walked past him to the woman, sobbing and still pleading on her knees.

It hurt to see Brienne this way. She had always been a fighter- strong in her convictions and her loyalty. Lady Stoneheart- a fitting name for one so cold- croaked out a laugh and ran her finger down Brienne’s cheek. She lifted her rotting finger to her lips, letting her unnaturally dark tongue lick the tears from the digit. She smiled, and Jaime found that to be more horrifying than her standing with a blank expression. 

“The boy,” her voice was like stone grinding on stone. It sent a shiver down his back. “He fought hard to live. He was swinging there on his noose. He tried so hard to make you proud.”

“You are not my Lady Liege,” Brienne yelled out. Her throat was raw from the rope burn and the tears she was fighting back. Jaime held his breath and thought to himself, _“No, Lady Brienne, this _was_ her. This was the true face of Catelyn Stark. Her good looks covered her rotten inside. Now that that was stripped away, her face was revealed to all._ “He was just a boy! I have done what you asked! You promised he would live if I did.”

“You took too long, False Friend. And he,” Lady Stoneheart extended her bony finger out toward him. “Still breathes. You have not done as I asked. The boy would have died for your lack of loyalty anyway.”

“What boy, Brienne?” Jaime had to know. He had to learn who she betrayed him for. Her blue eyes, dull and devastated, met his. He felt her pain and regret and thought back to the anguished tears that filled her dreams. “Podrick.” She dropped her head, slumping her shoulders, and nodded. “You betrayed my trust for him.”

Her face turned toward him again. Her expression tore at him. She bit her bottom lip, causing it to crack and bleed. Finally, she said softly, “He is just a boy. He did not deserve to die for things he did not do. Had it only been me hanging from that branch…”

Brienne didn’t need to finish her thought. He knew what she was going to say. If it had just been her, she would have swung- she would have died for him. The warrior woman tried to lift up from her knees, tried to stand, but was shoved to the muddy and icy ground. She fell on her damaged arm and cried out. She began to rise again but stopped herself as a chorus of chants began all around them. The men, drunk and wild, sang out, “Kingslayer’s whore, that’s all you are! Nothing but a cunt to fuck! His whore is all you are.”

His teeth clenched in anger. They would pay for all the pain these _men_ caused her. They would pay for the death of a young man that did not deserve to die. Jaime stared at Lady Stoneheart and grinned, “Do you think you have won? Killing a kid, harming a woman that mourned you? I am still breathing as you said! You have won nothing!”

“I am keeping you alive,” the dead woman croaked. “So you can watch her die for loving you.” Jaime’s insides turned to ice at her proclamation. “She called out for you when a fever took her body. She called your name, Kingslayer! A whore just as my men have called her, but one you have never fucked! Too ugly for you? Not enough like your sister to get your cock up?”

The men around them laughed, but Jaime just continued to smirk. He was no fool. He had known that he would be walking into a trap. The men he commanded were waiting for his word. “Have you given my cock much thought? Did you dream about it?”

The bitch growled through the slit in her throat, “Kill her!”

Jaime acted quickly, calling out, “Now!”

The sound of men bursting from their hiding places surprised the Brotherhood and many were cut down before a sword could be pulled from their hips. Blood covered the field, soaking the icy ground. Jaime moved toward the wench to pull her from the ground when he felt the burning pain of a knife in his side. He turned to see a man with a broken nose and several missing teeth. Jaime believed this would be his end, but instead, it was his attacker’s end. Brienne grabbed his sword from his hip and ran the other man through. 

The body fell to the ground and Brienne handed him back his sword. “Ser Jaime, I’m sorry for misleading you. I never wanted to bring you here. It’s just Pod truste-”

“My Lady!” She spun at the sound of her squire’s raw voice. She laughed through tears and limped over to him. “My Lady! You-you-you came b-b-back!”

“She said you were dead,” Brienne held him close. “I thought I had failed you.”

“Ser Hyle and I m-m-managed to escape after they let us d-down to wait on you. The Lannister soldiers f-found us.”

“Thank the Maiden,” Jaime heard her whisper before letting go of the boy and limping back to him. “I will accept my punishment from your army for betraying you, but please, Ser Jaime, spare the boy. He did nothing wrong-”

“Come with me, Lady Brienne,” Jaime pulled her to a darkened spot where they were shielded by thick trees. She shook in his arms- from fear or from the illness that still burned through her he didn’t know. “I forgive you.”

“But!”

“I knew you were leading me somewhere. I knew it was not good. One night I sent a letter with the scout following us to gather the troops needed.” He caressed her ruined cheek. “I forgive you.”

Brienne ducked her head and choking on a sob, “Thank you,” she said through her tears.

 _Anything for you, Lady Brienne,_ he thought as he forced himself to step away from her. “I must go to speak to my men. Come find me after you tend to your squire.”

She nodded to him and Jaime walked away from her- as hard as that was to do.

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	7. Act 7: Lust and Chastity: His True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brienne stood in his doorway. Her hair was clinging to her forehead, her clothes soaked through from the rain. She took a deep breath and waited for him to react to what she just said._
> 
> _“Ser Jaime?”_
> 
> _“You wish to return oathkeeper?” His stomach dropped at her jerky nod. “That sword was a gift to help you on your quest.”_
> 
> _“My quest,” she unbuckled the belt and lifted the Valyrian blade toward him. “I fear I am not the one to complete it. I nearly got a boy and,” she looked up at him with haunted eyes, “you killed. I should return to my isle and do as I am meant to. My father is sick, and I will need to take my place in the family.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you that have read this story. It was a struggle to finish it with my work schedule, but I hope it was enjoyable. Thank you to all of you that have left kudos and comments. You make my day so much brighter. I hope you like the last day of the Sins/Virtues story! Please let me know your thoughts!

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Act 7: Lust and Chastity: His True Love

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Brienne stood in his doorway. Her hair was clinging to her forehead, her clothes soaked through from the rain. She took a deep breath and waited for him to react to what she just said.

“Ser Jaime?”

“You wish to return oathkeeper?” His stomach dropped at her jerky nod. “That sword was a gift to help you on your quest.”

“My quest,” she unbuckled the belt and lifted the Valyrian blade toward him. “I fear I am not the one to complete it. I nearly got a boy and,” she looked up at him with haunted eyes, “you killed. I should return to my isle and do as I am meant to. My father is sick, and I will need to take my place in the family.”

His mouth went dry. He thought back to Red Connington and all those other cruel men. Men that didn’t respect her- could never _see_ her for who she was. She would be hidden away with them. She would be beaten and mocked, made to feel useless and ugly. Jaime pictured her with another man- tears upon her cheeks as he ripped her maidenhead from her without care. His heart lurched in his chest, lodging into his throat. He swallowed roughly.

“You would take a husband?”

“Mayhaps,” she shrugged. “I will need a heir to take over once I perish. The Tarth name needs to continue.” She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Hyle has offered me his hand- on more than one occasion. He would not be a bad husband,” her mouth pulled in slight disgust. Her expression showed her true feelings about the hedge knight that rested a few rooms away. “He would not harm me and we could…”

“You could what?” He asked with fire in his tone. “You could turn into a breeding mare that would never sing the song of steel again? Gods be good, Wench! Is that what you want? To be some hedge knight’s lady wife?” 

“I could do worse,” she said as she rolled her shoulders back. “I could do much worse than him.”

“You could do better!” He raged. This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be a Knight, not some housewife! Especially to _that_ man. He pulled her into his room and closed the door behind him. She took several deep breaths and backed away from him. Her cheeks flushed bright red at being alone with him. He walked toward her and pleaded. “Do not settle, Lady Brienne! He doesn’t deserve you.”

Her blue eyes turned steely, “You act as if I have many men to choose from!” Her hands clenched at her side. “I have always been ugly and too dim by half for most men, but now-” Brienne shook her head, swallowing whatever she was about to say. “I have to be honest with myself. Hyle is not a man I could love, but he would never hurt me. He will not stop me from training with a blade. As I have stated, I could do worse.”

His chest felt like someone was crushing in between heavy boulders. He couldn’t breathe. All he could see was her with another and it made him _angry_. He closed the distance between them and took her hand in his. 

“Wed me,” he implored earnestly. “I will be your husband. I will marry you…”

“Stop it!” She tried to pull her hand from his, but he held on tightly. “What pleasure do you get out of this jape? I know I have betrayed you, but this is just cruel!”

“I am not making a jape,” he pulled her closer until they were nearly nose to nose. “I am quite serious. Marry me, Lady Brienne.”

She shook her head, her mouth slightly agape. “You are a knight in the Kingsguard. You shall take no wife and bear…”

“No children.” He smirked. “We both know how well I followed that vow.” He let go of her hand and ran his through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. “I will leave the Kingsguard. I have been discontent with the dealings for many moons and Cersei…”

She flinched. “Yes, what about your sister? She needs you.”

“I have broken ties with her. The night I left with you, I had burned a letter that she sent me. I don’t wish to be hers any longer. I haven’t been hers for a while.” Their eyes met and held. He pressed his lips to where Biter had taken a chunk of her flesh and she inhaled sharply. “Marry me, Lady Brienne.”

Her arms came up and encircled his waist, keeping him close. Her hands pressed into his back, burning him through his shirt. “I want to believe you want me…”

He angled his hips into hers and she gasped at the proof of how much he wanted her. His erection was straining against his britches. He wanted to lead her to his bed and claim her completely. He wanted to show her how much this old Knight, wrecked and wretched, needed her. 

“I want you,” he kissed down her cheek to her lips. “I want you.”

She sighed against his lips, closing her eyes. He knew he could take her. He felt her surrender but he forced himself to take a step back. Her eyes opened quickly. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. 

“I will prove to you how much I long to be your Lord Husband. I will not let another take my rightful place at your side.”

“Jaime,” she whispered. “Please be sure. You have been a Knight in the Kingsguard for many years. I don’t want you to give that up unless you are sure.”

“Well then,” he grinned against her knuckles. “I will just have to woo you, Lady Brienne. I will write to the King on the morrow to resign from my duties and then you will learn just how sure I am about being your husband.”

He kissed her hand and wrist once more and led her to the door. He touched her hair. “Sleep well, Brienne.”

She looked dazed as she said softly, “Sleep well, Ser Jaime.”

He closed the door behind her and sighed. He had a lot to do.

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He couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to taste her. He needed to have her under him. He needed to have his name fall from her lips as she reached completion. He had been wooing her for a sennight and being so close to her without claiming her was _turning him into a mad man_. Brienne had no idea she had such a hold on him. It was obvious with the actions she took and her responses to him. She flushed and stammered when he held her hand in front of others. She looked to the ground when he complimented her. She jumped when he would stand too close.

All of her past interactions with men had left her unprepared for the attention of a true suitor. And it was that innocence that had him grabbing his cock late into the evening, jerking off to his memory of her nude in that bath. He growled at any man that stepped too close to her, especially Hyle Hunt. The fucking hedge knight still believed he could win her heart, but Jaime was going to make sure that would never happen. The day he received the raven from the King granting his freedom from the Kingsguard, Jaime had been pulling all his effort into showing Brienne exactly who she was meant to marry.

It was obvious to all that watched them, that neither knew how to court. Jaime had missed that stage of his life, first because of lack of interesting an anyone but Cersei, then because of the guard. Brienne had never known a man could truly want her and had lost that dream because of it. 

The wooing was awkward at start. He fumbled with how to get her attention, because he knew she would not be accepting of normal gifts. Jaime took her on private walks. He touched her face with gentle hands. He sparred with her- and lost more times than he cared to admit. But he didn’t kiss her. He held himself back from being too aggressive in his desire… Now he was finding that more difficult to do.

Especially on this night.

He had caught her after a training session with Podrick. Her cheeks were flushed, sweat made her white tunic cling to her, mud was smeared on her neck and her nipples were visible through the cotton. Jaime’s mouth had gone dry as soon as he saw her. His cock hardened to the point of pain. It had taken every ounce of his will power to get up from the table where his knights were gathered and not drag her into his room. The feat had been giant and he commended himself for doing it without too much embarrassment. 

Now standing in the center of his small Inn room, he was regretting leaving her down there. He ripped his shirt from his body and tossed it to the ground, before working the laces of his pants. He needed to get his cock under control and the only way to do that was to bring himself to climax. He groaned out loud as his fingers brushed the side of his dick. He hissed and closed his eyes. Fuck! He needed his wench!

His pants dropped to his ankles, followed closely by his smallclothes and he sat on the bed. Gripping his cock, he pictured Brienne standing in front of him as she had been in the tub. Her nipples wet and erect. That batch of hair between her legs wet from lust. He growled, working his shaft fast and hard. He thought about her dropping to her knees and looking up through her lashes at him. He saw her tongue slide across the head of his cock, kissing it, then opening her mouth to take him in. 

Oh fuck! He bet she would be good at that. Brienne sucked him hard, flattening her tongue to trace the curve and veins of his dick. Up and down, her head bobbed on his manhood. He cursed and groaned, “Fuck! Brienne!” He was getting loud. Roaring out his pleasure the closer he got to spilling his seed all over his hand.

“Jaime,” he froze at the sound of the her knocking. “Are you well? You called me. Do you need to speak to me?”

He opened his eyes and released his cock with more than a little reluctance. “I am well,” he answered in a straggled voice. 

“Can I come in? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He looked down at his hard cock and then back at the door. It wasn’t smart, what he was planning. It could cost him his chance with her… He removed his clothes completely and wrapped a fur around his middle. He opened the door, letting her see him as he was- aroused, needy and wanting her. Her blue eyes widened and her skin turned nearly purple. 

“Oh. Uh,” she looked away from his body and just beyond his shoulder. “I, uh, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I’m glad you did.” Jaime stepped aside. “Come inside, Brienne.”

She looked at the bed, his clothes on the ground, his mostly naked body and finally his eyes. Her blue orbs were dark with lust, her breathing became harsher and she was nearly shaking. “Jaime…”

“Come inside, my wench,” he purred. “Let me taste those lips. Let me show you how it feels to be touched by a man that desires you.”

Almost in a trance, she stepped over the threshold and closed the door. He dropped the fur, pulling her close by her hand and kissed her hard. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lack of experience was clear, but, once again, it was that innocence that sent his blood pumping through his veins. 

They moved over to the bed, falling upon it. He pulled at her clothes to get to the skin underneath. She was warm and soft. He nipped at the underside of her chin, moving lower. Jaime licked up and down her neck, grinning at her pleas for more. He sucked on her nipple through the material of her tunic and she arched into him. He rose over her and looked into her eyes. “We can stop if you don’t want to do this. Just say the word.”

She bit her lip and said softly, “I want this to happen. I have dreamed of you.” Brienne reached down to the edge of her tunic then stopped. “Are you sure, Jaime? I know I am not beautiful… we can blow out some of the candles-”

He cut her sentence off by pressing his lips to hers. “I want you, my Wench. You have seen my excitement for you, you can feel it pressed to your hip. I have desired you for many moons.” He angled his hips and rocked them into hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she moaned, moving her hips in time with his. Jaime stopped moving and waited until her eyes met his. “This will hurt, my Wench, but I will make up for the pain. This is my vow to you.”

“I trust you, Jaime.” She leaned up and kissed him softly. His heart nearly burst out of his chest at her words. It was at that moment he realized that he not only wanted her, he loved her. Truly and deeply. He loved this woman more than any person that came before her. Cersei paled next to her brilliance in his heart. “Jaime?”

He shook his head and kissed her. He poured every bit of his devotion to her in the movement of his lips on hers. Together they stripped her of her clothes and Jaime inhaled at seeing her bare once again. He drug his lips over her collarbone, down her chest, he sucked her breasts into his mouth. He worshiped her body, whispering how much he wanted her into her skin. He bit at her hip bone and licked at the honey that clung to that wiry batch of straw blonde hair. Jaime plunged his tongue into her, lapping up her sweetness and devouring her juices. Her nails clawed at his back, her hips jerked up into him. He grinned possessively. _His_. She was _his_.

Her moans got louder the closer to completion she got. She begged him to relieve this ache inside her and he worked hard to do just that. Brienne came apart on his tongue and fingers. She danced for him. She screamed his name. She rocked and arched and shook. He took all she gave and demanded more. 

Her body flopped back on the bed, exhausted and spent. He climbed over her, grinning at the look of bliss on her face. She opened her eyes slowly, running her thumb over his bottom lip. He kissed the pad of her finger gently. 

“I,” she yawned and he rolled over to the side, pulling her close to him.

“Sleep, wench,” he said, moving his nose into the curve of her neck.

“But you,” she swallowed. “You are still…”

“Hard?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, wench, there will be plenty of time to satisfy my needs later. Sleep now.” 

She yawned again and snuggled closer to him. The warm weight of her against him was devine. “Good night, Jaime.”

“Sleep well, Brienne,” he whispered into her shoulder. 

They slept wrapped up in each other’s arms and awoke the same. The two of them spent the night learning about each other and the pleasure they could have. Jaime had fucked only one woman in his life and that remained true after the sun rose in the East. He did not fuck Brienne. He made love to her. The true other half of his soul.

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